


Misadventures at the End of the World

by DinerGuy



Category: Zoo (TV)
Genre: Can they please act like the grown men they actually are, Chloe is about to kill one or more of her teammates, Drunk Jackson, Friendship, Gen, Humor, drunk Mitch, random musical numbers, teamfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10753236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: It wasn’t that Chloe didn’t appreciate music. It was more the fact that said music was coming from her drunk teammates in a hotel bar when they were supposed to be working. That was what she didn’t appreciate.





	Misadventures at the End of the World

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic way back at the start of season 2 with the intention of creating something dark, dramatic, and angsty… but then I think my muse got drunk, and I ended up with this story instead. And then I started rewatching the show in anticipation of season 3, and I remembered I’d never polished this up to post. I do have some other fics in the works, but for one reason or another, I never finished any of them. Hopefully I'll amend that soon, but in the meantime, here's what you get. 0:)
> 
> This is set early season 2, after Dariela joins up with the team… A character death is mentioned (I told you I meant for this to be angsty), so fair warning.
> 
> Thanks to frankie_mcstein for the beta!
> 
> Standard disclaimers apply. I don't own Zoo or its characters, nor do I own the lyrics to any of the songs used here.

Chloe was not happy. She had been waiting in the hotel room by herself for going on half an hour now. The team was supposed to be reviewing their plan for the following day, yet no one else had had the decency to show up. She took a deep breath and steadied herself, resisting the temptation to get worked up. Perhaps they had lost track of time. Mitch had made a comment about grabbing a bite to eat from the small shop at the front of the hotel, and since it was rare for anyone to have fresh food anymore -- much of the population had been reduced to living out of cans and MREs -- there was a chance that a crowd at the shop had caused Mitch to be delayed. It was unlike him not to at least call, though… And then there was Jackson. He definitely would not have disappeared without at least telling her first. For him not to call meant something  _ had _ happened.

She was trying not to worry, but Chloe had had more than her share of first-hand experiences with the animal apocalypse, which meant she knew exactly what could befall anyone who ventured outside of the hotel. Even though she knew her team could take care of themselves, that didn’t stop her imagination from formulating an infinite number of scenarios -- all of which ended in violent, brutal death. That was enough to finally urge her out of the hotel room and downstairs. She did not even bother stopping to ask Abe for help, knowing how strained relations were between the burly African and the other two members of their team. She would call him as a last resort, but right now, she preferred to let him have his space. Men were already hard enough to understand; add in grief, anger, and general surliness, and Chloe would have rathered deal with one of the animals running rampant in the city than knock on Abe’s door.

Opting for the stairs instead of the elevator allowed Chloe to work off some steam as she descended the four short flights. By the time she reached the first floor, she was feeling slightly calmer. She entered the lobby, glancing around unsuccessfully for a glimpse of either Mitch or Jackson. The room was fairly large, though, so she walked the perimeter as she peered at the passing faces. There were dozens of soldiers, their faces stoic and intent, headed in every direction. They all appeared worn and weary from the months spent on high alert since the current crisis had begun. The fact that they were fighting a constant, losing battle did not help.

Chloe moved to check the shop at the front end of the hotel. There were a number of people inside, waiting in a queue for assistance from the harried clerk. At the far end of the small shop, she spotted Mitch. His back was to her, and he did not turn, even when she called his name. Squeezing her way through the people inside, she made her way over to where he stood. “Mitch!” she called again as she drew closer and put a hand on his shoulder. “Mitch, what is--”

“Can I help you?” The man who turned to face her was definitely not Mitch. He was approximately the same height and build, with a similar light skin tone but bright green eyes and a bushy mustache.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” she apologized, her accent slightly more pronounced by the worry she was trying to hide. “You looked just like my friend. Sorry for the interruption; have a good night.”

He nodded in a friendly manner as Chloe hurried back to the hotel lobby. She bit her lip in thought, then stopped one of the passing soldiers. “Excuse me,” she began when the young man paused with a worn smile on his face, “I am looking for two of my colleagues. Perhaps you have seen them?” She gestured with her hands. “Both are about so high with dark hair. One is older, perhaps wearing glasses, with hair a little longer than the other?”

“Hmm,” the man grunted. He pointed with his thumb as he jerked his hand over his shoulder. His voice was soft and deep, with a distinct Southern twang -- perhaps Texan, Chloe decided. “Pretty sure they’re in the bar there. Word of warnin’ though; they’re both drunk as Cooter Brown.” Then as an afterthought, he added, “Might be more’n you can handle. Like any help?”

“I will be fine; thank you.” Chloe replied. “But I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing. G’night.” The man dipped his head and continued on his way.

She frowned to herself as she redirected her steps towards a hall on the other side of the lobby. A sign in front of the passageway directed patrons to the bar, and Chloe hurried past it. She was already put out with her teammates, and her frustration only increased when, as she neared the doorway to the bar, she could hear two very familiar voices raised in rowdy song.

“Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? The big bad wolf? The big bad wolf? Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? Tra la la la la.”

Chloe stormed through the door, coming upon a scene straight out of her biggest headache. There were several soldiers and other patrons scattered around the small room, along with a tired-looking bartender. The off-tune singing was coming from two men sitting at the end of the bar, and Chloe did not even have to pass the doorway to know they were her missing team members. Both were over-enunciating their words in a manner that said they had long since crossed the line of having too much to drink. Not even trying to hide her heavy sigh, Chloe strode over to the counter.

“Ohhh, hey, Chloe!” Jackson was the first to notice her, having turned to try to get the bartender’s attention just as she came up alongside him. He paused with his glass raised in the air as he gave her a wide, goofy smile. “How’s it goin’?”

He was adorable when he smiled that way, but she was too angry to care at the moment. She frowned and reached up, pushing his hand down before the bartender could see him. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “Jackson Oz, you are acting like a child!”

“A child?” he repeated, his voice rising an octave in the middle of the word. “I’m no… no child.” Then he paused in deep thought before turning to his companion with an expression of concern. “Am I, Mitch?”

“Well…” Mitch pursed his lips and shrugged exaggeratedly. He waited several moments more than necessary, and Chloe was about to interject when he continued, “That’s debatable.”

Chloe growled and rolled her eyes. “You were both supposed to be upstairs an hour ago! Why are you in here, hammered and making fools of yourselves? Most of these people already think we are crazy; this is not helping our case any!”

Jackson and Mitch shared a look, then burst out laughing. The younger man looked as if he was about to reply to Chloe’s lecture, then he paused and grinned as a thought apparently came to his mind and interrupted whatever he was going to say. “Mitch, do you think  _ she’s  _ afraid of the big bad wolf?” he asked, his words slurring and tumbling over one another.

Mitch blinked. “Nah, Chloe’s not scared of anything. And we’re like cats with nine lives anyway,” he added, nodding seriously. “We keep coming back.”

That seemed to strike some thought in Jackson, because he slowly smirked at his comrade and started singing again. “But the cat came back...”

“Ohhh!” Mitch exclaimed with a grin as Jackson started the song, apparently recognizing it right away. He jumped in to help finish the line. “...the very next day.”

“The cat came back, we thought he was a goner.”

“Oh would you two shut up already?” someone yelled from across the room.

“Guys,” Chloe tried again, more firmly this time, “stop it. Let’s go.”

“Aw, come on, Chloe.” It was Mitch this time, interjecting as he drained his glass and then tilted it around in a circle on the bartop. “We’re just havin’ a little fun. Ya know, since recent events have kinda taken that outta everyday life.” He grimaced. “First Jamie, now Dariela. Who’s next?” he asked, raising his voice and looking around the room as if for a volunteer.

Chloe’s eyes widened slightly. “Is that what this is about?” she demanded.

“Well sure.” Mitch gave another exaggerated shrug of his shoulders. “I mean, it’s not about the cuddly little pandas out there waiting for us to come have playtime.”

Meanwhile, Jackson had managed to catch the attention of the bartender and the man came over with two more glasses of brownish liquid. Chloe threw up her hands and made a noise of exasperation, but both of the men had turned their attention to the fresh drinks in front of them. Her expression now seemingly a permanent frown, Chloe spun on her heel and headed for the doorway.

The singing, which quickly grew just as loud and as boisterous as before, followed her as she went. “But the cat came back; it just couldn't stay away, away, away.”

“Hey!”

She was not sure who had thrown in the exclamation, nor did she particularly care. She stormed up the stairs, not even glancing at the elevator. This time, the walk did nothing to help her temperament, and she nearly beat down Abe’s door when she arrived. “Abe! Abraham Kenyatta, open this door immediately!”

There was a muffled noise from inside the room, then Abe swung the door open. “Whoa, whoa, Chloe. What is going on?” he asked worriedly, looking her up and down as if expecting the worst.

But Chloe did not stop to reply. She pushed the door open the rest of the way and stalked into the room, where she crossed her arms and turned to face Abe. “I do not care what you and Jackson have going on between you right now. Or Mitch for that matter. I know you all have issues, and we need to work those out, but right now, you need to help me.”

Abe never had been a man of many words, even less so when something was eating at him. Wordlessly, he let the door close behind him as he turned and waited for Chloe to continue.

She paused briefly, taking in his stance. He had been through hell the past few days -- well, months really, but they all had. Recent events, though, had arguably been some of the worst for him. Chloe sighed. “Look, Abe, I know that this has been hard on you,” she acknowledged. “And I know you do your whole strong, silent thing when you get upset, and no one is mad at you for being upset. We do understand. But we just want to help! Jackson was just trying to help…” She sighed again, then squared her shoulders. “And right now, we all need your help.”

Abe arched an eyebrow.

The whole thing was so ridiculous that Chloe almost laughed despite herself as she formulated her next words. “Mitch and Jackson are in the bar downstairs, and I think they have long since had too much to drink. We need to get them back upstairs before they get themselves killed.”

“Killed?”

“By one of the soldiers they are driving to deafness,” Chloe offered with a shrug of one shoulder. She could not hide her smirk at Abe’s change of expression, the smirk on his face telling of some memory at which Chloe could only guess.

Then he nodded. “Okay,” was all he said before he opened the door and led the way out into the hallway.

They took the elevator this time, and Chloe thought it could not have gone any slower. She stood silently beside an equally silent Abe, tapping her foot in impatience as she watched the floor numbers tick by. When they finally entered the lobby, it was still busy, but Chloe thought she could detect frustration on more faces than before. It didn’t take long to cross to the bar’s entrance, yet before they had even entered the hallway leading to it, loud voices could be heard from within.

“Ah, now I see what you mean,” Abe said, nodding in Chloe’s direction. Then he tilted his head and frowned as he took in the noise from the bar. “But what are they doing?”

Chloe had heard the sounds as well, and she was at a loss as to how to explain why there was now a chaotic cacophony of ‘meow’ing drifting their way. At least the singing had made some sense. By the time they entered the bar, her already impressive headache had doubled in size.

Mitch and Jackson were both leaning against the counter, laughing in that almost silent way that comes when one is so tickled that all they can do is gasp for air. Just as Chloe and Abe arrived, Mitch managed to catch his breath, but then he looked sideways at Jackson. “Poor Don Gato,” he squeaked out.

Jackson snorted. “Meow!”

And then they both dissolved into laughter again.

The other patrons of the bar looked ready to lynch both of them, so Abe quickly intervened. “Oh, Rafiki,” he sighed, striding over and scooping Jackson off of the bar stool in one motion.

Meanwhile, Chloe had stepped up to the bar next to Mitch, and she plucked his wallet from his back pocket. “This should cover everything,” Chloe told the bartender, pulling out several bills. “I am so sorry for all of this.”

“Hey…” Mitch belatedly began to object, but he didn’t get any further.

“No,” Chloe told him, holding up a finger in front of his face. “You do not get to complain. We are going back to the rooms right now.” Her tone left no room for argument as she tucked Mitch’s wallet into her own pocket before slinging his right arm over her shoulders.

Somehow, they all made it to the elevators with no more trouble than Mitch insisting he could walk on his own and taking a spill in the middle of the lobby -- nearly pulling Chloe down with him if not for the intervention of a passing soldier. They all piled in, and Abe pressed the button for their floor.

Chloe shook her head as the doors slid shut. “It is way too early for all of this,” she started in on a lecture, unable to contain her frustration. “It is barely nine o’clock on a Saturday--”

There was an amused snort from Mitch, then, in a sing-song voice, he started, “The regular crowd shuffles in.”

“What?” Chloe glanced around the elevator car at the others. Neither Jackson nor Mitch acknowledged her question, but Jackson’s goofy smile said he knew just what it was.

“There's an old man sitting next to me,” Mitch continued to sing, his voice rising in both pitch and volume, neither of which was in tune. “Makin' love to his tonic and gin.”

“He says, ‘Son,’” Jackson belted out, his voice rising in volume with that last word, “‘can you play me a memory. I'm not really sure how it goes.’”

Abe was laughing, and Chloe just frowned harder. Her scowl only increased when, instead of taking her side, Abe’s deep voice joined in on the next verse.

“‘But it's sad and it's sweet, and I knew it complete, when I wore a younger man's clothes.’"

Chloe seemed alone in her exasperation as the three men sang with gusto. “Sing us a song; you're the piano man.”

The doors to the elevator slid open at their floor. Chloe could only offer up a prayer of thanks that their rooms were just a few steps down the hallway, for the serenading continued as they went.

“Sing us a song tonight. Well, we're all in the mood for a melody, and you've got us feelin' all right.”


End file.
